Page 10 of That Time I Kissed My Brother’s Best Friend

ChapterThree

BEAU

“Thanks for the help,” Brady says. “And for the ride. Don’t quote me, but I missed you, man.”

I flash him a crooked smile. “Too late. Already sent out a press release.”

“Ahh. So I’ll have to murder you now, then. Got no choice.”

Brady and I are in my dad’s truck on the way back from the docks. We met up this morning at his parents’ place so I could say hi. They were out front when I got there, Mr. Graham chopping wood and Mrs. Graham stacking. Brady was grumbling about having to clean the kayaks, so I offered to help him out. By way of answer, he just hopped in the truck.

Typical Brady.

“Honestly, being back at the lake felt good.” I lick my lips and taste the salt of my sweat. The place was still crowded when we left, full of boats pulling inner tubes and water skiers. It felt like I’d jumped off that dock only yesterday. And forever ago. Give or take.

“When we get back, you want to come in for a drink?” Brady offers. “My old man’s got coolers stocked for a week. Besides. I owe you one.”

“Nah. I was happy to do it.” Turning onto the tree-lined road that winds around the back side of town, I check my watch. Four o’clock. “It’s a little early for me anyway.”

“I was talking about soda.” Brady punches my arm. “But when did you become such a grownup?”

I crack another smile. “One of us has to be an adult. I nominated you, but …”

He smirks. “It didn’t go too well?”

“I didn’t say that. But how did a goof-off kid like you manage to land a real-life job with Doc Swanson? Working at a vet clinic is serious business.”

Brady chuckles. “I rely on my charms, man.”

I arch an eyebrow. “You?”

“Hey. I can be charming when I want to be. You just forgot because you’ve been gone so long.”

“Sure, sure. I remember. You’re definitely charming. A real prince.”

He snorts. “According to my mom, you’re therealprince of the village. You should hear how she raves about you.” Brady switches to a high-pitched warble that’s a decent imitation of Mrs. Graham. “Beau is so amazing, Brady. His little photography hobby issoimpressive.”

“Little photography hobby?” I give Brady the side eye, but I get why he’d bust my chops. He has no idea what my career means to me. How proud I am of what we do. I don’t share those feelings with anybody. The only one I ever wanted to share things with is way out of reach.

“And don’t forget all the charities Beau supports,” Brady screeches. He’s still using his mother’s voice. “My word, Brady! Think of the children!” He keeps going like that until we reach the Grahams’ house. Luckily it’s not a long drive.

When I pull up for the second time today, I flash back to the gut twists I’d get here back in high school. Half dread, half expectation. Then I remind myself Kasey doesn’t live in Abieville anymore. She doesn’t even live in the state.

“At least come in for a minute,” Brady says. “My mom’s probably baking snickerdoodles by now.” He takes a beat. “In honor of your illustrious return.”

“All right.” I duck my head like I’m eighteen again. “I’ve got some time, I guess.”

And Mrs. Graham’s cookies really are the best.

We climb the steps up to their porch and kick our flip flops off next to the welcome mat.Kiss Me Under the Mistletoe.Huh. What’s up with that? And why is there a wreath on the door?

We head inside, and I catch the scent of an eggnog candle. There’s a massive tree by the fireplace. “Uh, Brady?” I survey the room. It looks like Santa Claus threw up everywhere. “Should I be worried?”

“Crazy, right?” He flops on the couch and props his feet on the coffee table. “All I can say is I’m glad I moved out.” He smirks. “Just in the St. Nick of time.”

“No, but seriously. We were together all day, and you failed to mention your parents turned their house into the North Pole. What gives?”

He chuckles. “It’s my mom’s brilliant idea. She talked all my out-of-town cousins into coming home for the 4th of July.And since a lot of them weren’t around for Christmas—and my mother’s a total nut job—she’s got the whole family decking the halls. A double-duty holiday.”

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